


Poisoned Hearts Will Never Change

by Into_Evernight



Category: AFI
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 06:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3110051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Into_Evernight/pseuds/Into_Evernight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jade thought Davey was more comfortable with himself than anyone. But he comes to find that it's all just a cover-up for his insecurity, his guilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poisoned Hearts Will Never Change

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on AFIslash on 06/11/2011
> 
> I wrote this when I was really, really sad. :( Family stuff. Can't really talk about it. :/ I did do some experimenting with Davey's character and manner of speaking though, and I'm kind of in this transition stage as far as my writing is concerned, so, uh, yeah. I still don't have the tightest grasp on it yet but I like how this came out, though it was technically 6 AM anguished, delirious mind barf.
> 
> Thanks to BreakingonMe for beta-ing and encouraging me to post it. If he hadn't, I probably wouldn't have posted it here.
> 
> Disclaimer: These are mere characters based on the members of AFI(not the real members, duh). I do not own; I do not make money. No disrespect, harm, or libel is intended; this never ever happened (and never will) as this is 100 percent fictitious. Also, please no offense at the religious stuff.

Jade was sitting on the couch in his living room, half-reclined and comfortable, feeling warm and hazy as he read _The Age of Reason._ It was late afternoon; outside it was raining, cold and gray and dreary. He sighed and snuggled further into the cushions and his flannel blanket, briefly smiling down at Munch—who had jumped up on the couch. She yawned and rested her little head against his leg, and he had just reached down to rub her belly when his cell phone rang.

Sighing, he set his book down on the coffee table, leaning over to retrieve his phone. A quick glance at the caller ID told him it was Davey, and he couldn't help the warm smile that flickered on his lips. "Hello?"

"Hey," Davey said, pausing slightly. "It's me."

"And who's 'me?'" Jade teased lightly, settling against the backrest of the sofa.

"Dave," he sighed, sounding tired.

"I know. I was just playing," Jade said, the good feeling slowly sinking in his stomach. There was something in Davey's tone that felt off, that felt more distant than the static and crackle the phone lines provided. Frowning slightly, he crossed his leg, ankle on his knee. "What's up?"

He heard Davey swallow, and there was a pause; it was hesitant, troubled. Something inside Jade sparked, and he felt uneasy. "A lot. Listen, I need to talk to you." Jade was about to say that they were already talking, but he was cut off as soon as he'd opened his mouth. "In person."

"Oh, um, okay." Jade licked his lips, scooting to the edge of the cushion and leaning his elbows on his knees. "Do you want me to come over?"

"No," Davey replied, tone curt, laced with ice. "I want you to meet me at _La Boulange._ "

"Okay." Jade got up, stretching long, lanky limbs, then reached for his jacket. "How soon do you want me to meet you?"

"As soon as possible. Now." Davey almost sounded panicked; it tugged at Jade's heart painfully.

"All right. I'll be over—" Jade started, but before he could finish, there was a click and the line went dead, buzzing in dull monotone in his ear. Blinking, slighted, he flipped his phone shut and slipped it in his back pocket, forcing his feet into his favorite Adidas and heading for the door.

The drive over took longer than he thought he could stand. Between the time he left his house and made it to the halfway mark, he had the chance to really think Davey's words over and absorb what had just happened. It was beginning to make him feel sick, to think of how cold and disappointed Davey had sounded, to think of the meaning behind his clipped, vague words. And even worse, how he'd hung up on him so suddenly. All the signs indicated their meeting would be anything but pleasant; it had to be bad.

He didn't want to think that their relationship had reached an end point, especially since it'd just become stable enough to feel like a well-worn blanket, like something he could fall into whenever things were going wrong. Davey was his best friend and had been since they'd met in high school. They'd been practically inseparable since, and had been dating for two and a half years. He'd been beginning to think they could move in again—perhaps even buy their own house together—especially now that they'd told their families, spent Christmas with Jade's parents', accepted themselves for who they were. Although Davey's family had not taken the fact that their son was gay well, they'd seemingly accepted it, and that in itself was major progress. To think of how far they'd come and what all they had at stake—their bond, the life they'd built, their friendship, the band—made his stomach churn. If one thing went wrong today, there was a real risk of changing things as they knew it. And he didn't want that to happen, not when they'd come so, _so_ far.

Though they'd both come a long way, he felt like he'd grown the most. Three years ago he'd been scared, having finally admitted to himself what he felt for Davey, having finally acknowledged, deep inside, that he wasn't straight. He hadn't come out for a long time, but Davey had been there for him with a sympathetic smile and a soft touch, a knowing look and a kind word. He'd been Jade's biggest supporter through everything, and he'd been the one to teach him how it felt to accept and love himself, to look past the dirt and the grime and the filth that everyone else saw. And it wasn't his love that sustained Jade alone, and it wasn't by his love that he found a miraculous cure. No, Jade found it in himself—the strength he needed to be the person he was meant to be. Davey only helped him to see that, and he felt forever indebted to his dear friend, his lover, for becoming that beacon of hope, that guiding light. If anyone was his rock, his solid foundation, it was Davey.

That had changed.

Jade knew it the instant he came in from the pouring rain into the warm, bustling cafe. He knew it the instant he looked up and met Davey's eyes from across a half-crowded room. They were dark and none-too-inviting, bitter with the regrets of words not yet shed, and he was chewing down on his lip ring like he always did when he was anxiously contemplative. Something deep inside Jade tore, fell to the bottom of his stomach like a sinking ship. Taking a deep breath, he forced the aversion back and made his way to the booth by one of the large picture windows, offering Davey a peace treaty of a smile as he slid into the seat.

Pushing a steaming cup of coffee towards him, Davey said, "Hey. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

Jade smiled feebly. "Of course." He bit back the next remark— _"I'd do anything for you."_ He could tell by the look on Davey's face that such sentiments were not welcome here. It felt lonely and isolated, like the thread holding them together was unraveling string by string until the last one snapped. He had to force himself to stay quiet so he wouldn't ask _why._

A moment of silence passed between them, broken only by the shrill cry of an espresso machine, of the soft pitter-pattered whispers surrounding them. Davey stared down at the yellow-orange table top, eyes murky and half-hidden behind the long waves of black hair he indiscreetly shook in his face. Jade's heart twinged as he realized he didn't want him to be able to read him.

"I've given it a lot of thought," Davey said out of the blue, as though he'd rehearsed it. He faltered then, losing track, and when he spoke again, it came out in streams and rivulets, like blood pouring from injured lungs out of his mouth. "I've spent nights and nights agonizing, Jade. You don't know what I've been through. I can't eat. I can't sleep. It haunts me everywhere I turn, and it's like I can't escape it. It's like if I close my eyes or turn my back, it will consume me. The fire is always brighter on the other side until you get too close, and it doesn't burn the first time; it just feels good. But when you get closer, it starts to sear your skin; it starts to hurt a little. Before you know it you're so close it's blistering, and you're in the midst of it. But it's too late. There's no turning back or saving yourself, or saving anyone that you've dragged down and hurt. Because they can't see it and you can't either. You're completely, utterly, painfully powerless."

He paused to take a nervous sip of his tea; his hand was shaking as he lifted his cup, and he directed his eyes out towards the raindrops streaking mournful trails down the window. As Jade let his eyes drop to the table, he found that his hands were shaking too. Maybe the exact meaning behind Davey's cryptic words was difficult to decipher, but Jade was no stranger to this sort of mind-vomit. Davey only spoke like this when he was truly hurting, truly a slave to whatever was plaguing him, and Jade knew he had something to do with it. It made his head reel, and he felt sick.

When he spoke, his voice cracked, throat feeling dry and sulfuric. "Why didn't you tell me sooner that you were hurting?"

"Because I didn't want to burden you with something that was my load to bear," Davey replied, flicking his eyes up to meet Jade's. Jade's breath caught in his throat as they locked, and he felt like he was sinking into their depths, truly seeing the soul behind them for the mangled, frightened creature he was. "Don't you see? All this time I've been trying to do what was best for myself. I've...I've been deceived, really, and I've deceived myself into this greater, existential delusion. It's not working anymore. I can't even feel myself because it's become more than me. It's become greater than me, turning me into this secondary false self. And it's consuming me."

Breathing out slowly, Jade pressed the pads of his thumbs into the corners of closed eyes until he saw bursts of colors and stars. Davey's babble—while nonsensical to most—had a true purpose and direction behind it. But Jade felt like he was missing the mark; he felt like he was failing at his end of communication. "Okay, but what is it that feels fake? What is it that feels wrong? I can't help you if you're not specific."

"It's me, dear. Everything about me." Davey's words dripped with venom; it was only half directed at Jade. The other half was sickly self-absorbed, undertones of self-loathing and pity. "I don't feel right. I don't feel real." Here, he swallowed audibly, and it sounded painful. "What I mean is—we can't keep going like this."

Jade's head snapped up, and he dropped his hands to the table. Again, Davey was chewing on his lip ring, eyes focused on some small pinprick of space outside the window, outside of himself. It was longing, like he wanted to be that little speck of nothing among the whole universe of matter, like he thought that was all he was worthy of.

"What are you saying?" His voice came out harsher than he'd warranted, and immediately, Davey's eyes were fixated on him again. He looked startled, but only for a moment.

"I can't be committed to you anymore," Davey said, breathing deeply. It was written all over his face—the agony, the silent plea with himself, asking not to do this, anything but this. It was killing him. Even so, he continued. "I understand if you'd rather not have any contact with me at all after this, but... We can't be together. Not like this. I didn't want it to come to this but it has to. Because I've been burned and I've become that fire.”

It took a moment to sink in, but when it did, Jade felt like he'd been slammed in the gut, and he couldn't breathe. The world around them slowed to a sickening snail's pace, and Jade was hardly aware of anything outside of themselves. "What?" He blinked, trying to shake off the shock. "I don't understand. Can't we work this out? If it's getting too intense for you, we can cool it a little. I'll do whatever it takes." He didn't stoop down low enough to say it out loud, but he knew his eyes were doing the dirty work—the begging and pleading—for him.

Shaking his head, Davey took a sip of his tea, voice filling the small cup. "I'm afraid not."

"But why? You haven't told me why. You haven't told me anything in context." Jade felt indignant. The heated ball was clenching and swelling, burning acidic and heavy in the pit of his stomach. And he felt like it'd burst at any moment, into sorrow or anger or both. It was all he could do to steady himself, to regulate his breaths before the dizziness got to his head and made him lash out in ways he would later regret.

Davey's eyes softened, and he fumbled with disobedient hands, which blindly and automatically sought out Jade's own. They found them unwilling, but snaked around them anyway, as though it were the last thing on earth that could ground them. "What I've shown you," Davey said slowly, "was something that I wanted to believe myself. I constructed a world of my own where everything was the way I wanted it to be. Everyone—every fallible human—does it. They want so badly to believe they hold the one meaning to life, the one truth, but there's no such thing. I fooled myself into thinking I could live like that—that I could live without the support of my family. And most of all, that I could escape the lingering guilt they've planted in me." His jaw clenched, eyes darkening, and his grip tightened. "It's because of them that I can't feel anything else."

Jade said nothing for a long time. Instead he stared down at his and Davey's hands clutching each other, at how tight and desperate the hold was. He could feel them shaking and sweating; he could feel Davey's pulse beating too quickly, and it made him want to draw him close, to sink into him and make him feel that it was all right, that they were all right, that he didn't have to feel guilty. Because he knew what Davey was talking about. It was the very thing that Davey had absolved him of years before. And to think that all along Davey had been a silent victim to everything he spoke out against and scoffed at made Jade hurt more than he'd ever hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, lacing his fingers with Davey's. "I'm so sorry. I wish I'd known so I could've helped you."

"There's nothing you can do." Davey swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing nervously, and Jade focused on their hands, trying not to see his love's eyes misting over. When he spoke again, his voice was weak, shaken. "The only thing I ask is that you walk away without resentment. That's all I want."

"I don't resent you," Jade began, but Davey shook his head.

"You would. You will."

"I won't." Jade kept his voice calm and even, knowing Davey needed the support, needed the security and the strength. It was the same thing he'd needed. "I love you and I always have. Even if you don't want to be with me anymore, I couldn't hold that against you. Not if you were sincere. The only thing that concerns me is that you're letting something you don't believe in hurt you."

Davey released a shuddering sigh, eyes fluttering shut. "It doesn't matter whether I believe it or not. What matters is that I feel the effects and it won't go away. I've tried everything. No logic or different perspective changes it. It's because feeling can't be driven by logic. It's something that becomes so deeply ingrained it's a part of your soul."

"I understand that," Jade argued, "but you can't give in like this. Not when it's killing you. I'll gladly accept a break-up, but I can't accept you smothering yourself. You know better than anyone that it never works that way. You just can't suppress it, not when you've come so far. Not when you've found yourself."

Davey's eyes flicked up to meet Jade's, hard and fiery. "You don't understand. It was different for you because you never went through the brain-washing shit I did. Yes, Jade, I have found myself. And I've found that it's a very frightening thing. Everything about me is. You should know that by now."

Jade did know that. Uncomfortable, he dropped his eyes to the table. "It's not just about being gay, is it?"

"No," Davey whispered hoarsely, as though afraid someone would overhear them. "But it has a lot to do with it."

"I'm sorry you feel that way." A pause. "Are you sure this is what you want? Because you might not get the chance to change your mind, though I'll give you some time."

"It's not what I want, but I won't have peace until I do it. I have to bury myself again. It's not worth losing my mind over. It's not worth the sleeplessness and the nightmares, or the sickness and the isolation. I did my best but I'm only human—and I've reached the end."

Nodding slowly, Jade slipped his hands from Davey's, a tingle of sadness washing over him as the skin brushed over skin and faded away into residual sensation. "Okay." He stood mechanically, feeling stiff and numb, feeling worse than if his heart had been ripped out and chewed up and swallowed bloody and whole. "If that's how you feel, I'll respect that. But if you change your mind or need to talk, you know where to find me." Throat constricting and vision blurring, he started to turn around, then thought better of it, digging through his pocket to fish out some change. Slapping it on the table, he let his eyes lock with Davey's one last time, and he wasn't surprised to find him rapidly blinking back tears as well. "For the coffee. Take care."

As Jade turned away, hands jammed in his pockets, he barely made out the wisp of a frail whisper. "You too."

Somewhere in the back of Jade's mind, he heard the undertone to Davey's words— _I love you._ Silently, in his mind, he returned the sentiment and walked away.


End file.
